


Claim

by diaphanous87



Series: The Good Ship Multi [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Horniness, Other, POV Second Person, Present Tense, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), What Have I Done, Yandere, Yandere light, a little bit spicy, not the usual thing from me, written pre-5.3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25712839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaphanous87/pseuds/diaphanous87
Summary: Someone is very... intent on you. As the Warrior of Light and Darkness, you were used to people's interest. But this felt different. Darker? Nay but it was unusual and unrelenting. Surely you were going to find out what it was sooner rather than later. But you feel like prey and someone was watching.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: The Good Ship Multi [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753429
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51





	Claim

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a spicy thought and little blurb from @mongoose_ff14
> 
> My take on Yandere!Exarch/WoL in second person. 
> 
> Baby's first yandere fic, my god. 
> 
> Putting this in The Good Ship Mulit series b/c I have no idea where to put it. Lmao, it counts, right?

* * *

**Claim**

* * *

One would think you would grow used to the stares digging into your back. You’re the Warrior of Light and now of Darkness. People staring at you was inevitable. But something about this particular gaze was different. It shot through your veins, clawed at your instincts. Intent. Unwavering.

Hungry.

Swallowing, you smile at the fruit vendor. They eagerly show you their best produce but their words seemed to blur in your hearing. Instead you fall back to your go-to of nodding silently. The vendor swoons and bags up the fruit for you. In a quiet voice you thank them. With unseemly speed, you walk away with your purchase. But the gaze followed you still. You clutch your bag of oranges (why did you buy these...?) to your chest. But you hold on to your stoic expression by the thinnest of threads.

And you make the mistake of going up a more out of the way set of stairs.

“My friend,” said a sudden voice behind you.

Flailing, you trip up the stairs with an embarrassed squeak. You cough when a steady hand grabs the back of your robes to prevent you from face planting onto the step above. One of your oranges escapes and slowly rolls down the stairs with little thumps. Oh...

“G’raha?” you breathe out in a shaky tone. You were gently pulled around and set down on your bottom on a step, back against the wall. Looking up, you swallowed past the lump in your throat. You clench your hand around the bag holding the rest of your oranges.

The Crystal Exarch, better known as G’raha Tia to you, tilts his head in a slow manner. Like a predatory bird eyeing its supper. Crimson eyes did not blink, slit pupils focused on you alone. His ears flicked. “My friend, you must be more careful,” he says, voice deep and calm. Too calm. He shuffles closer. And now he seems larger than life as he looms over you. “I would not see you injured so.” He reaches down with his flesh hand to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. His knuckles brush at the outer corner of your eye. The touch was slow, lingering. Your breath hitches. “I would speak with you anon.” The miqo’te smiles with a flash of white teeth. There was an unfathomable glint in his eyes. “Pray indulge me, my friend?” The Exarch steps back and slowly goes up the stairs. At the top, he pauses and looks over his shoulder for a brief moment. “I’m sure your fruit is fine. Don’t forget it.” With a swish of his robes and on light feet, G’raha disappears from sight.

The heavy feeling of eyes on you disappear with him...

* * *

Your nerves are shot. Sweat beads at your forehead as you fidget before the door to the Occular. Lyna gives you a strange look but says nothing as she leaves. Gods bless her. Your balled up fist hovers over the wood of the door. Sweat drips down your spine. The feeling of eyes on your back tingles along your senses. But no one else was here... right? Right?

You shake your head and gather yourself. It’ll be alright! It’s just G’raha! Your ally! Your friend! And if you sometimes think about him in an unchaste manner, well, that’s your thoughts and your business! You let out a relieved breath as your nerves settle a little. Mental pep talk done, you begin to knock on the door.

But before your knuckles hit the wood, G’raha’s voice rings out. “Come in!” The door swings open without being touched. Standing on the dais above the stairs that led up to the mirror/portal, the miqo’te slowly turns around. The portal behind him ripples and goes dark. “My friend, welcome as always.” He walks down the steps, his staff nowhere in sight. His hands were clasped behind him. A wide smile creased his boyish face, the blue crystal on his cheek nearly glowing. He hopped down the last step. His left ear gives a lazy flick before settling. With slow grace, G’raha holds out his flesh hand. His eyelids fall to half-mast, nearly hiding the luminosity of his crimson stare beneath long, dark lashes. “Come here, please.”

You feel compelled to obey. Slowly you step toward him. The door closes behind you with a quiet thump. But you barely hear it. When you reach him, you slide your hand against his, palm to palm. He is warm. His fingers gripped you tight, surprising you with their strength. You knew G’raha had grown stronger, an ‘all-rounder’ as he liked to joke during idle late night conversations before you leave for bed. But to feel that strength yourself... it was something else entirely. He looks at you for a long moment, his hand cradling yours. And then his grip tightens hard.

In a blur of motion, you are swung around and your bottom hits the floor in a gentle crash. You gasp as your back leans against the steps. You grip the step digging into the small of your back. Your legs are sprawled out before you between his ankles.

G’raha looms. His body seems to blot out the light from the aether lamp on the ceiling. His red eyes gleam. There was a wicked edge to his smile now. Then he moves. His hands grip his robes to hitch them up as he settles into your lap. You squeak at the feel of his bottom perched there. His thighs straddle your waist. He lets his clothing go and his hands slam on either side of your head on the step there. The miqo’te leans over you. His fading red hair frames his face. He growls deep in his throat. His geniality was gone. He bends his head further down, lips hovering over your cheek. His nose brushes along your face. G’raha inhales deep.

You can feel his warm breath on your skin. You shudder. Oh.

“How many years have I waited?” G’raha asks in a rumbling voice. “For you alone...” His eyes widen, a hint of madness in the red. Pupils go round in feline want. “How I longed to see you again.”

The air felt heavy with his hunger now dragging along your senses. The eyes you had been feeling these past few days in the Crystarium had been his all along! Your breathing speeds up as he presses a kiss to your temple along your hairline. A sluggish heat crawls through you.

“But soon you will leave me,’ he says, desperate and forlorn. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose pressing to your skin. He inhales again to take in your scent. His fingers tighten on the step where your head rested. A crunch of stone came from beneath his crystal hand. You shouldn’t find that so arousing. “To wake... him.” G’raha scrapes his teeth along the curve of your neck, his breath hot. You choke on a moan. He soothes the red mark with his tongue. You shudder, throat bobbing as you swallow. Was this real? Or were you dreaming again? “When all of this is said and done,” he rumbles against your throat, “I would ask a favor of you.”

“F- favor?” you ask. You struggle to concentrate. You could feel the heat radiating off of him. You also feel feverish. Your hands flex on the stone step at the small of your back.

“Yes.” G’raha leans back, ombre red bangs hiding one red eye. He rested his crystal hand at the base of your throat. The coolness of the blue crystal made your chest heave. His gaze was intent. “But for now, know this.” The slow smile of a predator spread his lips. “You are mine. You will always be mine. Understood?” He ground down on your lap. “Do you understand?”

“YES!” you gasp, shaking. “I understand! Yours!”

“Good, that’s good, my Warrior,” G’raha croons. He kisses your cheek as a reward. Slowly he removes himself from your lap to stand. Stepping away from you, the miqo’te straightens his robes. He grabs the front of your tunic and hauls you to your feet. He then guides you to the door. “Until the morrow, my own.” G’raha gives you a sweeping bow and ushers you out of his Occular with a sweet smile on his face.

The door closes in your flushed face. Stupefied, you nod and stumble out of the Crystal Tower. The guard blinks at you as you step into the evening gloom. But he says nothing, just nods goodbye. You are very grateful that he wasn’t going to ask. Flushed and panting, you rush down the stairs and to the Pendants. You barely wave hello to the Master of Suites before you slam your door behind you.

Safely(?) in your room, you press your back to the door. You slide down to the floor. Thumping your head back against the heavy oak, you press your shaking hands to your face. Gods, gods, gods! That was... Arousal pounds in your veins.

_You are mine._

Whimpering, you work to relieve the heat clawing at you with quick motions. Raha’s claiming words echo in your mind as you reach your peak. You curl in on yourself and pant. And you wonder...

What favor would he ask of you?

* * *

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for reading! Not my usual kind of fic but it was definitely fun! Please tap that kudos and/or leave a comment if you like! Thank you!


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